Lullabies
by jae-vous
Summary: He begins to lose her in waves.
1. Past, Present, Future

_**life… life is busy, friends. and school more so. **_

_**i have many drabbles that vary in subject and time and place, but this will be a series of vignettes, because i miss writing terribly, and need to exercise my brain. but for now, this is all i have the time for. **__**These are loosely based of the stylings and writings of one of my favorite authors, Lang Leav. Lullabies is her latest work, and perfection at that. **_

_**jae**_

* * *

He begins to lose her in waves.

Her touch is the first thing to leave him. Soft, warm hands, he remembers, ghosting over his arms, trailing across his neck in the early hours of the morning. A touch that would snake along his shoulders in the dark of the night, when his mind had made half the journey to the land of sleep.

_Come with me to Neverland,_ he would implore her.

He'd always receive a shy smile in reply, her lips meeting his bare shoulder blades. There she would press her face into him, drag a smooth leg up the side of his as she molded her body to his. He would never make it much longer after that; too calming a presence, her breaths coming out deeply against his skin. Neverland would soon follow, his eyes slipping close at the feeling of her all around him.

In his dreams, he still meets her there.

But he could never stay there long. Her touch would bring him back, time and time again. Her lips, her hands, her skin. She pulls him from sleep, and a lazy smile instantly slips across his face, make him release a breath of laughter into the pillow, inhaling her scent ingrained in the fabric.

He never wanted it to end.

Her touch would pull him out of reach of the demons, of nightmares filled with _almosts_ and _what ifs?_

She would always bring him home.

She is still with him, or so it feels. He feels her presence so strongly. It transcends time and space and every moment in-between. The memories of the past are vivid, reaching him here and now. He feels her presence so strongly, it is how he knows he will see her again in the future. She does not abide to the laws of the Universe. She reaches out to him through time, drawing him toward her with every day.

He just hopes it is soon.

It is funny to him. No longer does he remember a time she wasn't there. She is his past, his present, his future. His every heartbeat, his every breath.

* * *

The line rings twice.

"Are you okay, Tony?"

"Hurry soon. I'm forgetting the warmth of your touch." She is so far away. Perhaps it is the darkness of night that makes her feel a universe away from him.

"I will see you soon. The second star to the right, yes?"

He grins into the phone against his ear, closing his eyes. He swears he can feel the ghost of her touch against his jaw.

"Straight on 'till morning."


	2. Acceptance

_I cannot do this without you._

If she thinks it hard enough, will he hear?

He seems so still lying there.

She takes a breath, releases it in a shaky gasp. Beside her, the machine pumps breath after breath into him. Irrationally she wonders if she saves her breaths, with the less oxygen she inhales there will be more for him to take a breath on his own. She squeezes her eyes shut as the sound of gunfire swells in her ears. It had been so loud in the warehouse. All she can remember is following the sound of his voice.

_Ziva, look out!_

She can't live without him, and it terrifies her and leaves her in awe; it happened slowly and all at once, how he intertwined himself with her, became her entire world. She feels it overwhelm her.

But she knows how this goes.

If she admits it allowed, surely he will be taken from her. She presses her lips even tighter together to avoid the temptation of admitting her great weakness. How can she hear him so clearly in her head?

_It's not a weakness, Ziva. It's a strength. _

That was his argument so many months ago. The night they finally gave in.

What had they been arguing about this morning? It seemed so trivial now. Does he know she doesn't care? She just needs him to open his eyes. What she would give up, if only he would wake. _What are you waiting for?_ She wants to ask, demands with pleading eyes. Her gaze travels over his still frame, the hospital bed seems to swallow him whole. _Are you waiting for me to admit it?_ She wonders helplessly. Her hand clutches tighter around his. Does she imagine the flutter of his fingers? She takes another, heavy breath. Drops her head to his shoulder peaking out from the hospital issued cotton. "I need you," she whispers aloud at last. Her voice full of conviction. "You promised to come back."

_Come back._

* * *

"You could have died."

He would feel guilty for the tears she tries to hide, with her face pressed into his neck. But he knows all too well how he would have fared had she not made it. He's been there before. "You _would_ have." As weak as he feels, he puts an emphasis on the statement, daring her to disagree. She would have had he not acted.

She slaps at his arm weakly, no malice in the gesture. With all the drugs he was on, he's sure he would still feel a true punch from the retired ninja. She mumbles something against his neck, her breath hot and her lips searching. He smiles at the silent _Why?_ her mouth presses into his skin. He knows she would sacrifice herself to save him without a thought in the world. How does she still not understand he returns that feeling, tenfold? "Because," he sighs, gripping her to his body tighter. "Couldn't live without you, I guess."


	3. Legacy

He smiles at the answering flutter against his fingertips.

They haven't met her, yet. But she's no stranger.

He feels like they've known her for all of time.

Drawing his hand across her body, he searches for the familiar pressure of tiny hands, tiny toes, stretching and pressing against the growing expanse of her stomach. His fingers rake lower, and as his thumb brushes a spot above her hip, she releases a quiet laugh.

_Oops_.

Under the early morning sunrise, she rolls her body towards him to catch his gaze, molten brown eyes warming as she looks at him for the first time of the day.

His heart swells, and he finds himself falling even more in love.

"Did I wake you?"

Her eyelashes flutter, a content sigh accompanies a shake of her head. "No." _What a beautiful creature,_ he thinks.

Her voice is still thick with sleep. Or is her throat constricted with emotion?

Is she as content as he in this moment?

The blush blooming under her olive skin serves to confirm his suspicion. Somewhere beneath the sheets, a warm leg tangles with his. An ache within him ceases. He hadn't realized he was missing the contact. She moves even closer, presses her lips to his neck and her breath is so very warm, fanning across his jaw. "We have been awake for a while." Her choice in pronouns has him grinning. He returns his hand to her stomach now between them, searching with his touch for yet another kick against his palm. Sure enough, a gentle flutter.

He is not disappointed.

"She needs a name."

He presses back against their daughter's touch, sliding his other hand through her hair, fisting her curls tightly against her neck. God, he loves her curls. Will their daughter inherit them? He sure hopes so.

The woman beside him is obvious to his wandering mind.

"She is not here yet, Tony."

Still, a smile slips across her lips, drawing her gaze up to meet his eyes. Hers shine with amusement, and he mirrors her look in kind. "But she _will_ be _soon_." He emphasizes with unrestrained glee, and it makers her laugh and shake her head again. He waits patiently as she settles down, sure that she sees he wants to be serious.

A hushed utterance. "Your sister?"

A suspicious gleam falls across her eyes, filling with a hint of pain, but more so affection. "_Tali_?" She murmurs, her tone questioning. The name of her late sister seems to resonate across their bedroom. He nods, brushing his thumb across the tips of her curls in his fist. "She meant the world to you, Ziva."

She nods, her lips pulling up in a a smile that only holds a shadow of its usual radiance. "She was," She agrees, then exhales deeply. "But _you_ are my world now," her hand presses his hand still splayed across her stomach. "And _she_," he grins as Ziva presses more firmly against his hand, the strongest flutter yet pressing back beneath their hands, "Needs her own legacy. One to call hers, yes?"

He nods his understanding, and her lips meet his in their mutual agreement. "Her own legacy," he amends, drawing his mouth away from hers. She smiles, nodding, and draws herself closer to him. Her lips chase his, and talking becomes a distraction.

"You will see," she mouths agains his skin, "She will name herself." Her voice is full of conviction. "This is her life, and we will protect her from what our parents could not."

His smile grows at her words.

The possibilities excite him. What she will become, who she will be. Would she be more like her? He knows she will be beautiful. There was no question of that. Would she be quiet and thoughtful? Would she love movies and give them a run for their money? Will she pick olives off every pizza, like her, or would she cringe at taste of blueberries, like him? He doesn't know what she will be, who she will be. But he loves her for everything she isn't and everything she is, even now.

He couldn't wait.

* * *

Cradled to her chest, the cries begin to ease. Ziva's teary laugh combines with his own. "_Hello, beautiful_." He chokes out, greeting their daughter for the first time. When had he started crying? "You look so familiar…." He knows this little person. How could he not? He's known her all along. Ziva's sweaty cheek falls against his shoulder.

_What beautiful creatures._


End file.
